


Hanging Around the Mistletoe

by vix_spes



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Christmas, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mistletoe, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-26
Updated: 2011-12-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 12:20:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4435271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vix_spes/pseuds/vix_spes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's always slightly strange when John has to explain things to Mycroft</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hanging Around the Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Small_Hobbit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/gifts).



However John had imagined spending his first Christmas back from Afghanistan, it certainly wasn’t like this. Well, to be honest he hadn’t really imagined celebrating Christmas full stop but even so, he’d never considered anything like this. ‘This’ was Christmas with his … boyfriend? Partner? Lover? Whatever Mycroft was although he supposed that lover was the best way to describe him, they were certainly too old to be boyfriends. When he had first been … kidnapped by Mycroft, well let’s face it there wasn’t a better way to describe it, he had never foreseen that he would end up in a relationship with him. Particularly when you considered that he’d dated several women when he had first moved into Baker Street with Sherlock. Admittedly, he had found it rather disturbing that prior to asking him out, Mycroft had been watching him on CCTV around the city (the epitome of ‘big brother is watching you’) but then considering he lived with Sherlock, what he found disturbing now differed greatly to what he had previously considered disturbing. He didn’t know if that was due to the fact, while he was a hell of a lot better than Sherlock (who was a damn sight better than he thought he was), his own moral compass didn’t exactly point due north.

And then, he had been kidnapped again by Mycroft. It had been months since that first kidnapping after his first meeting with Sherlock. Oh, there had been many times when a black sedan had pulled up at the kerbside and Mycroft had stepped out with his trusty umbrella or when he ambushed them at Baker Street but he had never kidnapped John by himself beyond that first meeting. So, John had been more than surprised when, one day on the way home from the surgery, a black sedan pulled up next to him and the door opened without Mycroft appearing. Not completely sure what was happening, he ducked his head and saw A sitting there, completely absorbed in her Blackberry as usual. She had said ‘Mr Holmes would like to speak to you’ and that had been the only thing that she had said to him for the entire trip. He had been taken to a warehouse that looked incredibly similar to the one that had been used for that first meeting where Mycroft was waiting for him. He had expected something else to do with Sherlock, maybe another offer of money (although that would have been surprising), what he definitely hadn’t been expecting was a dinner invitation. He had been shocked speechless for several minutes as he pondered the thought in his head. Did he want to date Mycroft? He thought about things carefully. He’d dated both men and women in the past so that wasn’t a problem. While Mycroft was a Holmes and subsequently had the same unnerving intelligence and powers of deduction that Sherlock had, he was much more socially aware and John could see in him the same struggle that John had when it came to siblings who were facing addictions, the only difference was that Sherlock had beaten his demons while Harry was still struggling with hers. He also found Mycroft rather attractive. He wasn’t striking like Sherlock was but there was no denying that he was a good-looking man and one that John could see himself dating.

Starting out in a relationship with Mycroft Holmes had been unnerving to say the least at first. He was used to being on an equal level with his partners but here, he was definitely on unequal footing. He also had the feeling that, had he not been Sherlock’s flatmate for several months before his first date with Mycroft, he wouldn’t have stuck with it. It was bad enough when you were an open book for your flatmate/best friend to read but when your lover was able to do exactly the same thing? That was even worse. It was also rather disconcerting when your lover had a tendency to kidnap him off the street in black sedans with diplomatic plates. Still, there were benefits. Noticeably in the fact that he was dating someone intelligent (thankfully, Mycroft had the social skills that Sherlock didn’t have so even though John knew that he was dating a genius he didn’t feel as though he was stupid all of the time), he was dating somebody he was confident in himself both in his looks and his career, and also somebody who knew John’s history without the whole awkward ‘getting to know you crap’ (although that did have a tendency to leave John feeling slightly wrong-footed sometimes). There was also the fact that the sex was pretty bloody fantastic. Scratch that, it was absolutely bloody fantastic (and there was plenty of it considering that they were both men in their forties).

                                                                                          ~*~

He was stood in the middle of Mycroft’s house, wondering where the hell to start with the decorations. He had been hoping that Mycroft would be here to help him with this but Mycroft had been summoned from their bed last night and was currently in god knows where solving whatever crisis leaving John to sort out Christmas. He had originally wondered whether both Mycroft and Sherlock would be spending the festive period with the still unseen ‘Mummy Holmes’ but had been informed in no uncertain terms that that wasn’t going to be the case and upon seeing the look in Mycroft’s eyes, he hadn’t wanted to push any further. Mycroft had brought out the boxes of decorations that had been stored in his attic and John had delved through them, slightly bemused by what he found. Whereas all of the decorations that had been used in the Watson family since John was a small child were the generic kind of thing that everybody had alongside little things that both John and Harry had made at playgroup and school. The decorations that he found in the boxes couldn’t have been more different. They were all colour co-ordinated and no doubt ridiculously expensive having been bought from somewhere like Liberty’s. He had been incredibly paranoid while he had been putting the decorations up, not knowing what Mycroft normally did and what would be regarded as too much, until he thought that he had finally reached a happy medium. What there was a distinct lack of was mistletoe and other greenery and that was something that John felt needed to be rectified immediately. A brief trip solved the problem and there was soon a small pile of holly and mistletoe on the kitchen table and John was debating where to put it.

He had initially thought that Christmas would just be him and Sherlock maybe Mrs Hudson and Greg Lestrade at 221b, having thought that Mycroft would have to be working and then Mycroft had told him that he wouldn’t be working, bar any major disasters or crises. That then left the problem of what to do about the people that he had potentially thought of inviting for Christmas. Once again, Mycroft had shown his omnipotence and simply informed John that he would be delighted to have his brother, DI Lestrade and the formidable Mrs Hudson as guests for Christmas Day. To his credit, he had only grimaced slightly as he extended the invitation to his younger brother and to Sherlock’s he had only been mildly rude to Mycroft in accepting said invitation. John still lived at 221b but would often spend three or even sometimes four nights a week at Mycroft’s home depending on both Mycroft’s schedule and whether or not he and Sherlock were helping the Met with a case. Bearing that in mind, John had decorated Baker Street in addition to Mycroft’s house although it was Baker Street that looked more like the Christmas’ that John remembered as a child; tinsel, mismatching baubles and lights on the Christmas tree where more were broken than actually working rather than the perfection of Mycroft’s, although the obligatory mistletoe was present in both venues.

He had strung the mistletoe all over the place, both in Baker Street and in Mycroft’s residence in Kensington, hoping that he would be able to corner Mycroft under it at some point. Neither of them were big on public displays of affection; it had never really been John’s scene and it could be dangerous for Mycroft (John wasn’t fooled at all by Mycroft’s claim that he only had a ‘minor role in the British government) and even in Baker Street they tended to keep it to a minimum in order to avoid comments from Sherlock. Even so, John was more than somewhat surprised when Mycroft was confused as to why John was stealing kisses all the time. He didn’t say anything though until John took advantage of the kissing ball that Mrs Hudson had placed above the door to 221 Baker Street in full view of Sherlock, Mrs Hudson, A, Lestrade and the team from the Met. The reactions that they received were varied; Lestrade wolf-whistled, Donovan looked torn between delighted and horrified, Anderson looked downright disgusted and A simply didn’t even bother removing her eyes from her Blackberry. Mrs Hudson had her hands clasped together covering her mouth but that didn’t cover up the delighted squeals escaping while Sherlock rolled his eyes and shoved past them to get into the flat. Mycroft was the first one to pull away, fidgeting slightly with his umbrella and appearing not to want to meet John’s eyes.

“Not that wasn’t lovely but was there a particular reason that you just kissed me in front of all of those people?”

John was slightly befuddled himself. “What do you mean ‘was there a particular reason’? It’s Christmas and Mrs Hudson’s hung a mistletoe ball above the doorstep … of course I was going to kiss you.”

Mycroft ushered John down the steps and into the idling car. “I’m sorry. Could you please explain what having a parasitic plant ball hanging above the doorstep means that you’re going to kiss me?”

Mycroft had several rather adorable frown lines as he tried to figure out what was going on. All it did was make John want to kiss him. “Christmas? Mistletoe? Tradition?” When Mycroft still looked completely blank John gave an exasperated sign. “I’ll explain it when we get back to yours.”

As soon as they got back to Mycroft’s house, the politician moved straight into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of wine and fetched John a beer, before moving them into the sitting room. “Now, I want you to explain. Why is this mistletoe a tradition? Is this why there are bunches of the thing all over?”

“I would have thought that you would know what it meant, what with your upbringing or did you not do traditional Christmas’ when you were younger? Mistletoe has been a tradition for years. The tradition of kissing under the mistletoe has been around for hundreds of years; I think if I’m right it dates back to the Norse myths and legends or maybe even earlier. It was something to do with the gods and if two enemies were stood under the mistletoe they had to lay down their arms or warring spouses had to kiss and make up. There was another tradition later in England that said a young lady stood under mistletoe couldn’t refuse to be kissed. Since then, it’s become a tradition that whoever you end up under the mistletoe with, you have to kiss. Generally,” here John blushed; he knew how he felt but he wasn’t sure that he knew how Mycroft felt, “if a couple in love kisses under the mistletoe then it’s interpreted as a promise to marry as well as a prediction of happiness and long life.”

He watched as a slow smile spread over Mycroft’s face and shifted slightly at the effect that said smile had on him. “What’s that smile for?”

“Well, if that’s the case, where is the nearest mistletoe? I believe I have numerous kisses to repay.”

John’s giggle as he was pulled up and in the direction of the nearest doorway (because, quite frankly, it was a giggle no matter how much he denied it) was abruptly cut off by the chaste press of Mycroft’s lips against his own. As Mycroft set about coaxing a response from him, extracting mewls and whimpers from John as he literally melted against Mycroft’s taller form, he couldn’t help but be relieved that Mycroft hadn’t kissed him like this, like he was devouring John, at Baker Street. He’d never have lived it down at the Met and besides, here there was a bed up a mere flight of stairs. If they made it there at all.

**Author's Note:**

> If you would prefer to comment on LJ, you can do so [here](http://vix-spes.livejournal.com/78186.html)


End file.
